It’s been a few years since I’ve actually posted anything in this blog, but I figured it might be time to start writing again.
In the past two years, I’ve gotten married to my long time partner in crime, Steven
and had a baby (December 2012)
The story of Yuki’s birth:
Morning sickness? Puh-lease. All-fucking-day sickness for the first trimester and half of the second trimester of pregnancy. I could only eat Cheerios for a good portion of that! Once I got over it, I craved peaches, tomatoes, spinach, sharp cheddar cheese, eggs, chocolate ice cream from Ghiradelli, pecan pie, strawberry milk, and chocolate pudding.
Then I found out I had gestational diabetes and had to throw half my cravings out the door (or find sugar free versions). Unfortunately for me, I also had the type of GD that could not be controlled through diet alone, so I was on insulin for a few months. Poor Steve had to come home from work to inject me, because I would break down from not being able to inject myself. I was a serious wuss. On top of that, I had to go in for fetal monitoring once a week (and was always kind of scolded for having VERY high blood pressure). Â So between all the pains that accompanies pregnancy (heartburn, gas, baby on the bladder syndrome, and my sinuses completely shut), I was also on a strict regimen of eating at certain times, testing my blood sugar, and getting insulin injections. Suckiest trimester. Ever.
December 3rd 2012, went in for my weekly fetal monitoring sessions… my blood pressure was high enough to concern the nice ladies doing the monitoring, so I got sent to Labor and Delivery (this was the third time I was sent to L&D, and I swear I felt like I was going to the principal’s office! The first time was about three weeks prior for the same reason; the second time was Steve driving me to L&D in the middle of the night because I had a killer migraine. Thank you Vicoden.)
So I’m hanging out in L&D while they have me strapped in to a fetal heart monitor and blood pressure machine… and I just get this feeling that I was going to be staying for a while. I sent Steve a text to say, “Hey, I think you better get that car seat installed.” The doctor on duty eventually comes in to let me know that my blood pressure is high enough to be dangerous to both me and the kiddo, and I would be staying at the hospital so they could be inducing labor. By this point, I’m STARVING (I’m on a strict eating schedule!). They offer me some graham crackers to which I had to politely refuse and remind them of the GD (I think both the doctor and nurse may have mentally given themselves a facepalm.)
I got situated into a nice large room, where Steve eventually joins me. I had a hamburger with cheese for dinner. Then they popped that little labor inducing pill in me. Now, I’ve experienced some pretty horrible menstrual cramps in my life, and induced labor pain was up there in the ImightneedtocutsomeoneifIdon’tgetsomedrugsNOW kind of pain. On top of that, I was on a magnesium drip that helps prevent seizures that are caused by such high blood pressure.
Thank god for my awesome nurses. One shot of morphine, thank you very much. Now I know why morphine can be so addicting. Holyfuckingshit, as soon as that hit me, I felt soooo relieved.
The pain started coming back all too soon, and they gave me a second shot of morphine which, unfortunately, started to fade much too soon. Thank you for the epidural not too long after. (That really hurts going in.). My nurse commented that I was the quietest woman in labor that she’s ever encountered (honestly, I was either zoning out, or meditating the pain away.). Finally got some sleep.
I remember waking up at one point, and having SIX people in the room with me (Steve was blissfully snoring away on the couch-bed-thing). They explained to me that every time my blood pressure would go up, the baby’s vitals would go down. I guess this was going on for a few hours (I was sleeping), and my cervix had dilated to a whole… 0. Yes, it was C-Section time.
I was told that this kid had to come out asap. We pushed two other scheduled C-Sections back, and were bumped up to the front of the line. Honestly, a lot of what happened next is kind of a blur. I was given more medications to block out the pain (and of course the paralytic so I don’t squirm while they were getting her out). I believe it was a little too much, and I spent most of my time crushing Steve’s hand out of panic, trying to keep the room from spinning from the vertigo I was experiencing, alternating between begging for water and trying not to throw up.
When it was time for her to come out, I was told there would be some pressure (but no pain). I don’t know what kind of bullshit they were trying to feed me, but that was incredibly uncomfortable. It felt like someone was ripping a part of me out of my abdomen – which I guess is pretty accurate when they’re pulling a baby out. 6 lbs. 6 oz., 20 inches of adorable baby, born on the same day as my mother.
I remember seeing her hanging upside down, and the color of a blueberry. I also vaguely remember thinking “oh my god. I have a blueberry for a child. awesome.” When I finally got her in my arms, we were out of the OR, and she was nice and clean (thank god!).
We spent another three days at the hospital (should have been four, but they let us home a day early!). Breastfeeding is NOT fun. Between sore, cracked nipples, and vague unsupportive nurses with different opinions on how to correctly breastfeed, dealing with the remainder of the drugs in my system, major postpartum depression, being woken every hour by nurses doing their rounds, checking my blood pressure (not on the same rotation as the rounds!!), and feeling somewhat harassed for four days… I was totally over it. Of course, I was quite frightened that they were letting us leave with this tiny little human, but I was seriously ready to cut someone at the hospital (no matter how sweet the little nurses were!).
We didn’t get our celebration meal until the very last day either (the nurses failed to tell us that we could have had that the day she was born. No big deal. I ate my cake AND Steve’s cake when it arrived.)
Welcome home, Yuki.
(six months later:)
